


with my darling close to me

by thingbe



Series: where i will be found [2]
Category: Star Trek: Alternate Original Series (Movies)
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, M/M, Marriage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-01
Updated: 2018-06-01
Packaged: 2019-05-16 23:19:40
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,264
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14820827
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thingbe/pseuds/thingbe
Summary: Bones is always different in Georgia.





	with my darling close to me

**Author's Note:**

> As usual, a huge thank you to both kinneys and rainbowcasoup for everything they do. ♥ Title taken from the song 'Someday' by Passenger.

Bones is always different in Georgia.

It sets in from the second they step off the shuttle; with a roll of his shoulders, something in his stance changes. Jim’s not generous enough to say he relaxes, because he doesn’t, exactly, there’s still tension held up and down Bones’ spine, but there’s something a little... _looser_ in how he holds it. He looks more tired, too, and Jim’s willing to chalk at least some of that up to the shuttle ride, but he knows from experience that Bones carries more weariness with him here.

Jim offers a small smile, one he hopes comes across as comforting, and Bones doesn’t so much smile back as soften his expression, the lines around his eyes and mouth smoothing out – not disappearing, not completely, because despite how Jim still rolls his eyes at his old man act they _are_ getting older, and it’s starting to show. At least, they’re older than they were when they started, and sure, they aren’t _old_ by any means but Bones is sliding headfirst into 40 and some days, Jim catches himself understanding what Bones means when he goes on about feeling ancient.

But that’s a thought for later; for quiet evenings, not crowded shuttle bays. Finally, Jim reaches out and takes Bones’ hand, squeezing it and smiling again, nodding his head to say _lead the way_.

 

* * *

 

Despite the fact that Bones remotely started the air conditioning the moment they landed, Jim still finds summer heat lurking in the corners when they arrive at the house an hour later. He set off with a duster once they got unpacked, setting their things out in Bones’ childhood bedroom. It feels like a small chore, but knowing that it eases things for Bones, that it takes one more thing off his to-do list, makes him meticulous.

He takes his time, moving from room to room and surface to surface, carefully handling the fragile pieces of the lives of people he’s never met. Bones doesn’t talk about his parents often, though their sparse conversations over the years have added up, helping Jim build a picture in his mind of who they were. And going around their house like this, cleaning the things they’ve left behind, the parts of their lives that they chose to display, deepens that understanding; it refines that image until they feel more like people than ghosts. Jim doesn’t think he’ll ever fully shake the feeling that he’s intruding here, but he doesn’t let it rush him; he knows from experience that he needs to leave Bones to his own devices for a while as he gets himself used to being here, going around and cataloguing all of the upkeep that needs to be done.

A few quiet hours pass – before long, the house is more or less dust-free, and with Bones nowhere in sight Jim sprawls out on the big leather couch in the living room, flicking through news channels on the vid screen with the sound muted and subtitles on. Bones shows up just under an hour later, carrying a pair of beer bottles and lifting Jim’s feet to clear a space to sit, not complaining when Jim lifts his feet back up to rest in his lap. When Jim holds a hand out for his drink, though, Bones scoffs.

“I’ve been on vacation for less than twenty-four hours, Jim, I’m not letting you cut it short by aspirating beer,” he says, taking a swig of his own, as though to make a point.

Jim sighs dramatically and smiles when Bones rolls his eyes. “What, missing out on your vacation time would be a tragedy, but your _loving husband_ experiencing a medical emergency wouldn’t?”

Bones smiles and takes another sip. “They always did tell me you were a genius.”

Banter like this is an easy pattern to follow – it’s Jim’s turn to roll his eyes now so he does, feeling encouraged when Bones’ smile grows a little. It always takes some effort to lift Bones’ spirits in this house; it’s gotten easier over the years, as Bones gains distance and Jim gets some practice, but he’ll still celebrate his victories where he can.

Jim pulls himself up to sit and scoots forward, sitting so his legs are more or less curled around Bones’ lap, leaning against the back of the couch beside him. Bones raises an eyebrow but hands over the other bottle. Jim takes a sip and smiles; it’s dark, almost smokey, exactly the flavours Bones always goes for. He looks down as he rolls the bottle between his hands, feeling the condensation coat his palms and his ring click against the glass as he thinks.

“So what needs to be done?” he asks. He tries to make his tone as gentle as he can, knowing the change in conversation, however inevitable, will put something of a dent in Bones’ newfound good mood. And it does – Bones’ smile twists a little so Jim stills his hands, reaching out his right to take Bones’ left, lacing their fingers together and resting them on his knee.

“The usual,” Bones says, shrugging. “Gutters need looking at, I need to double-check the wood on and under the porch, I should probably take a look at the roof, I’d like to clear up the gardens a bit if I’ve got the time...” He takes a sip of his beer as he stares off at the screen; more looking at it than watching it, Jim suspects, by the distant look in his eyes. “Whole lotta trouble for a place I come to once a year, if I’m lucky.”

Jim squeezes Bones’ hand, letting a mostly comfortable silence fall between them as he tries to figure out what to say. This is uncertain territory – even now, it’s a topic Jim feels like he’s always just shy of fumbling.

“What are you thinking?” he asks; quietly, as though the words are fragile.

Bones sighs. “Dunno. Guess I’m thinking about whether it’s worth it. Feels like I’ve got a skeleton sitting in the back of my head, like all I’m holding onto it for is to cling to something that’s gone.” His drawl has already started to seep further into his voice, though nowhere near as strong as it’ll get when they’ve had Joanna around for a while – Bones’ accent always feeds off of hers, but it’s also something he falls into on his own, like something about the weather or the house slips him back into it, like an old habit.

Jim takes a moment to consider what Bones is saying, taking a sip from his beer as he puts his own thoughts together. “Well first off, you know I’m the last person who could fault you for that.” He smiles a little when Bones finally turns to look at him, an apology on his face, but Jim squeezes his hand again to say _you don’t have to_ before continuing. “And is that such a bad thing? To hold onto something that connects you to someone you’ve lost?”

“It is if it’s holding me back.”

“Is it?”

“I... don’t really know.” Bones looks back at the screen, his expression twisting a little more. “This house was always... No matter what, I could always come home, it- it was always here as a port in the storm, my dad used to say. And now...” He trails off, and his voice is a little quieter than it was as he finishes his thought, saying “I don’t know, Jim, now it just feels... empty.”

“Have you been thinking about selling?” he asks, bringing Bones’ hand up to kiss his knuckles when he shrugs.

“I thought about it, but I always wanted to leave it to Jo; I always thought that if nothing else, I could give her this, something to start from, but... maybe it’s too full of the past to build any kind of future on.”

Jim can tell, from the look on his face and the sound of his voice, just how much this has been tearing at Bones, and he wishes, for a moment, that there was anything at all he could say that would fix it. He wants to say the perfect words, wants to pull Bones close and erase the tightness in his expression and the pained edge to his tone – he wants to see Bones smile, because if anyone in the galaxy truly deserves contentment, it’s Bones.

There are no magic words, however; there’s no simple way through this, and all Jim can do is his best. He kisses Bones’ knuckles again and murmurs “Hey,” against them, waiting until Bones meets his eyes again to continue. “I’m here. Whatever you need, I’m here.”

Bones smiles a bit, not entirely humourlessly. “Even if it’s a swift kick in the ass?”

Jim laughs at that. “ _Especially_ then.” Bones’ smile relaxes a bit more – another for small victories. “I’m here for you, Bones. We’ll figure it out.”

Bones nods silently at that, then tugs lightly at their joined hands and leans in a little closer. Jim gets the message, happy to meet Bones halfway for a kiss that’s almost surprisingly soft. He’ll never get tired of the feeling of Bones’ lips against his own; even like this, just a simple, constant pressure, more of an affirmation of each other than a touch with its own purpose.

“Thank you,” Bones sighs, kissing Jim once more before sitting back again. He separates their hands to wrap his arm around Jim’s back, resting his hand on Jim’s hip and pulling him closer. It’s a pretty good trade-off, in Jim’s opinion, and he can’t quite bring himself to mourn the loss of Bones’ hand in his own as much as he might have otherwise.

Jim ultimately settles with his cheek against Bones’ shoulder, more or less wrapped around him in the corner of the couch. Bones finds them an action movie, turning the sound back on; they finish their beers to a mediocre script and fairly decent explosions, curling even closer together once the bottles are empty. They leave the channel playing when the next movie starts, and the next, letting a peaceful quiet settle around them, comfortable letting their closeness speak for itself.

 

* * *

 

The first night, Jim wraps his legs around Bones and whispers _fuck me_ and Bones _does_ , losing himself in the push-pull of their hips working in tandem, making soft noises into Jim’s neck as Jim runs fingers through his hair, murmuring quiet comforts.

When Jim comes it’s with Bones’ hand around him, with Bones gently kissing his throat and whispering love against his skin – and as he falls asleep in Bones’ arms, he thinks about safe harbours and quiet shores.

 

* * *

 

Jim isn’t surprised to wake up alone. Bones always wakes up early the first morning; he says it’s because he’s away from home but Jim can tell that it’s more than that, that there’s something about being in the house itself that makes Bones antsy, at least at first. He checks his time from his PADD on the side table to find it’s almost 9:00 – early enough that he hasn’t really overslept, but late enough that Bones will have been awake for long enough that he won’t mind company.

He’s a little disappointed to find the kitchen empty, but he grabs an apple and some coffee that Bones has left to keep warm and sits at the counter, flipping through his PADD while he waits. He’s halfway through the apple when Bones appears on the deck outside, heading in when he spots Jim.

“Hey, darlin’, sorry I didn’t leave you anything,” Bones says, walking over to kiss him good morning. Jim hums into it and takes Bones’ hand, lacing their fingers together.

“Don’t worry about it, I’m not very hungry,” Jim says. He nudges the empty stool next to him with his foot and the wooden legs groan against the tile. “Sit?”

Bones does, squeezing Jim’s hand before letting go. He folds his hands on the counter in front of himself, staring down at them quietly. Jim doesn’t want to push, but he’s about to ask Bones what’s on his mind when Bones speaks.

“Got a call from Jocelyn. Jo’s done school the day after tomorrow, she’ll drop her off then,” he says. He doesn’t look up from his hands; intentionally or not, this gives Jim time to make sure his expression is one of careful neutrality at the mention of Jocelyn’s name.

“Did you get a chance to talk to Jo?” Jim asks. He gets his answer immediately in the smile that spreads across Bones’ face, first directed down at his hands and then at Jim, when he finally turns to face him.

“Yeah, just for a minute. She’s really excited – she told me specifically to tell you that she can’t wait to see you.” Bones kicks his foot teasingly at Jim for emphasis, and Jim can’t help smiling himself.

“What can I say, I- hey!” he’s interrupted by Bones snatching his coffee; he makes a half-hearted attempt at stealing it back, but Bones is leaning away and Jim doesn’t feel like getting out of his chair. “I’ll need that if you want me to be doing manual labour today.”

One of Bones’ eyebrows rises. “Manual labour, huh?” he murmurs against the rim of the mug, grinning behind it when Jim rolls his eyes. He hands it back after taking another sip; Jim pointedly sets it back down out of Bones’ reach. “I don’t think there’s anything too gruelling ahead of us today, just clearing the gutters and patching them, if they need it. We’ll go from there.”

“Were you looking them over?” he asks. At Bones’ confusion, he elaborates, “Just now, I mean, when you were outside.”

Bones’ smile fades a little then, taking on an almost sad tone, and he glances back at his hands. “Nah, I was just out filling the bird feeders. Who knows if they’ll come, but, well, my ma always kept them full, and we always tried our best after she was gone, so.” He shrugs. “I dunno, it feels right.”

Jim tries to avoid mentally kicking himself; sure, it feels like he’s stumbled across a landmine, but there’s really no use trying to avoid those here. Before he can try to say anything, Bones has moved on.

“How about you finish that and get changed and we can get started? I’d like to be back inside before noon, I know how you wilt under real sunlight.” Jim kicks at Bones’ foot at the jab, but agrees. The sooner they’re outside, the sooner they’re finished and back inside, avoiding the sun like reasonable people.

Jim finishes his apple and half of his coffee, sliding his mug in front of Bones and kissing his smile before heading upstairs.

 

* * *

 

The second night, Jim murmurs _gorgeous_ as he trails soft kisses down Bones’ torso; he spreads his hands around Bones’ ribs on either side, kissing above every bone on the left before repeating the same on the right, and when Bones sighs Jim _experiences_ it, not only hearing it but feeling it, under his hands, his lips, his own chest where it’s pressed to Bones’ stomach.

He continues, kissing down, down, until he finally takes Bones’ cock into his mouth. He’s slow, thorough, not speeding his pace even when Bones tugs at his hair exactly how he likes it, instead taking his time, as though everything he can’t say is caught behind his tongue and all he can do with it is _show_.

After, Bones pulls gently at his shoulder until Jim crawls his way up the bed. He lets Bones pull him into a kiss despite the taste lingering on his tongue – he expects it, falling into it even before he’s asked, and when Bones whispers _I love you_ it sounds like a reverent _thank you_.

 

* * *

 

The next morning, Jim offers to be the one to go into town to get the things they need, insisting that he’s fine to go alone and Bones might as well stay at the house and do some of the smaller things that don’t require both of them. It’s another chore that makes things easier for Bones while keeping Jim from feeling useless, and with that mindset he almost enjoys it. He can’t help smiling to himself when Bones’ opinions on ripeness come to mind as he’s picking out tomatoes, and he’s a little more thorough in checking the produce than he might otherwise have been.

When he gets back he finds Bones in the backyard, staring at trees. Jim can’t tell if it’s any trees in particular, or just the forest that curves around the rear of the backyard and continues further on past it. He doesn’t hurry in his approach, taking his time to appreciate the view, so to speak. When he reaches Bones, he kisses him on the back of the neck in greeting and worms an arm around his waist. Bones smiles at him briefly and rests one of his own arms around Jim’s shoulders before looking back at the trees.

“What’s going on up here?” Jim asks, knocking his head against Bones’ when the silence starts to drag.

Bones squeezes his shoulder. “I found my dad’s old hammock and it looked fine, so I figured I’d put it up. Just have to find a spot.” He turns to look at Jim. “Need help with the groceries?”

Jim kisses Bones’ nose, just because he can, smiling at how it makes him huff. “Nope. I’m gonna go get lunch ready, I’ll come get you when it’s done.” Bones murmurs his thanks and Jim kisses his cheek before heading back to the house.

Making the food itself isn’t exactly time consuming, but fitting it into the cooler turns out to be and it’s close to an hour later by the time Jim’s heading out the back door, the cooler’s strap over his shoulder and a blanket in hand.

Bones is in the same spot as before, but scattered around him on the grass are some rope, hooks, and a lump of fabric that Jim figures will all eventually materialize into a hammock. Bones raises an eyebrow at the cooler and blanket, and Jim shrugs, readjusting the strap over his shoulder.

“So we’re having a picnic,” Bones says, sounding amused. Jim rolls his eyes.

“Yes, you’re very observant, now c’mon, this thing’s getting heavy,” he says, throwing the blanket in Bones’ face to cut off what he knows will be a quip about whether he’s getting out of shape. He turns and heads into the forest, trusting Bones to follow him. There aren’t really any trails but the vegetation isn’t dense in the first place; it’s pretty easy to pick his way through the underbrush, and his only concern is being able to find the spot in the first place.

“Is there a reason why I’m out here, getting my legs scratched all to hell, and not at a table like a normal human being?” Bones calls from behind him.

Jim smiles over his shoulder and calls back “Yeah, because you’re not watching your step.” Bones snorts and Jim laughs to himself. “Don’t worry your fragile southern head, Bones, we’re getting close.” Bones mumbles something under his breath at that – it’s too quiet for Jim to make out the words, but knowing Bones like he does, he can make a good guess.

A minute later and Jim can see the clearing ahead, with a not insignificant amount of relief. He hitches the bag’s strap up his shoulder again and picks his way over, glancing behind himself once before reaching the edge of the trees, stopping just beyond. When Bones catches up and appears beside him, he laughs.

“Well I’ll be,” Bones says, looking around the clearing. It isn’t quite empty; the space is filled with a few neat rows of old, gnarled peach trees. Bones walks up to the nearest one, touching the bark and smiling absently. “I can’t believe you found this place,” he says, looking back at Jim, his smile growing.

Jim shrugs, smiling back. “What can I say, I’m a natural-born explorer.” Bones laughs, looking back to the tree. “Is there a story here?” he asks; he’s been curious ever since he found this spot, on a visit years ago, when he’d gotten bored and tried exploring the woods for an afternoon.

“There sure is.” Bones is still smiling as he makes his way between the trees, clearing out a spot with one on each corner before starting to set the blanket down. “Way back when he bought the property, my granddad got it in his head that he was gonna grow a peach orchard on the side; he always said he did it for my grandma, saying the only thing that could make her peach cobbler better was peaches grown in their own backyard.” The blanket set down to Bones’ satisfaction, he looks back at Jim. “Which was a lie, because that man knew better than anyone that her cobbler was perfect.”

Jim laughs, setting down the cooler at the edge of the blanket and taking his shoes off, balling his socks up inside them. “I feel like there’s more to this story,” he says, encouraging Bones on, loving the way Bones’ eyes crinkle at the corners in amusement.

“Well, rather than planting your regular, dependable peach trees, he got it in his head that he was gonna plant ones modified to live longer – ‘so every new generation of McCoys will get to have the same peach cobbler’, he’d say.” Bones laughs to himself as he starts taking off his own shoes, setting them beside Jim’s, socks balled up inside. “Little did he know, the ones he got were experimental; they sure have lived longer than any other peach tree I’ve ever seen, but they’ve never produced fruit a day in their lives."

Jim laughs and pulls Bones down to sit beside him, pulling him forward with a hand cupping his face to kiss him. “So much for an orchard, huh,” he murmurs, and Bones laughs, grinning and kissing Jim again.

“So much for the orchard indeed,” he says, kissing Jim lightly once more and sitting back. “So, what’ve you got in that thing that’s so heavy?”

Jim shoves at Bones’ shoulder, smiling when he laughs; it’s so good to hear Bones laugh, and it feels even better to know that he’s the reason why. He turns to the cooler, getting it open and setting out the food. First the sandwiches, then the two containers of salads, each with their own forks – then, finally, the rather sizable jug of freshly-made mint juleps. Bones laughs when Jim sets it down, recognizing it immediately, and tugging Jim back to him for another kiss.

“So that’s why you wanted the recipe,” he murmurs.

“Didn’t want to risk doing it wrong,” Jim says, kissing Bones again when he laughs. “Now c’mon, let’s dig in, I’m starving.”

The food goes down easily; the mint juleps go down even easier, and together with the shade of the trees Jim almost feels like he isn’t going to melt at any second. It’s probably the first time he’s felt like he’s at a decent temperature while outside since stepping out of the shuttle bay two days ago.

When the food’s gone, Jim starts collecting containers to put back in the cooler. Bones moves as though he’s going to lay back but Jim stops him with a hand to his knee, smiling playfully and asking “Don’t you want dessert?”

Bones’ attention is fully on him in an instant. He looks Jim over, going “Dessert, huh?”, his voice purposely lower. Jim laughs, reaching into the cooler until he feels the bag, and pulling it out.

He hands it to Bones, and he can’t help laughing when Bones does, tipsy from drinking. Jim grabs one of the peaches from the bag and says “Dessert,” still smiling when he bites into it.

Jim watches Bones devour his, and he’s kind of impressed; Bones eats peaches like a pro, barely getting any juice on his fingers and finishing it quickly. Jim would make a playful comment about technique but he has something else in mind – a little messier, sure, but hopefully much more fun.

He waits until Bones looks at him again after tossing the pit out into the forest. Bones raises an eyebrow, probably because Jim hasn’t moved on from his first bite, but with Bones’ attention he smirks and bites down again, letting the juice drip down his fingers, licking his lips and making a soft hum of enjoyment, which he may or may not hope Bones interprets as a moan.

Bones doesn’t say anything as Jim continues eating like that, slowly, licking his lips clean after every bite, his hand growing stickier with juice as he goes on. Bones stays quiet but his face says everything; he’s watching Jim intently, his eyes following the movement of the peach and then of Jim’s tongue, his own occasionally mirroring the movement in a way Jim suspects he’s completely unaware of.

Jim grins as he holds the peach out to Bones – he pulls his hand back slightly when Bones reaches for it and the way Bones’ eyes darken when he realizes what Jim means for him to do sends sparks up and down Jim’s spine. He holds the peach in front of Bones again and Bones slowly wraps his fingers around Jim’s wrist before directing the fruit to his mouth, taking a bite without breaking eye contact.

When he does look away it’s to Jim’s hand, watching juice bead a trail down the side of his pinky to his wrist. Starting at the bottom, Bones licks up the path it took, until he reaches the top of Jim’s finger and slowly takes the tip into his mouth, scraping his teeth against the pad of it in a way that makes Jim dizzy.

He pulls off slowly, sucking until his lips clear with an almost inaudible pop; before he registers what he’s doing, Jim tosses the peach behind them somewhere, into the trees, he doesn’t care, just _away_ so his hand is free to pull Bones to him and finally kiss him.

Jim only notices that his fingers are still sticky for a second before forgetting it completely, his mind focused wholly on the feel of Bones’ lips and the _taste_ of him, the sweetness of peaches still on his lips and tongue – and lurking behind it, a lingering coolness from the mint, its own sweetness blending with that of the peaches until all Jim knows is the luscious taste and soft responsiveness of Bones’ mouth. He pulls Bones’ lower lip into his mouth, dragging it between his teeth and sucking the taste of peaches off it, the sound of Bones groaning going straight to his dick.

Bones is pulling away then, and Jim tries desperately to follow him, a needy whine escaping through the haze of food-and-booze-and-peaches-and- _Bones_ , and when Bones chuckles Jim rests a hand on his chest to feel the vibrations of it.

“Hold your horses, there, darlin’, we’ve gotta clean you off,” he drawls, a second before taking Jim’s thumb into his mouth, smile curving around it at the sound of Jim’s gasp. He takes each finger into his mouth by turn, licking what he can’t reach, murmuring “What a mess you’ve made, ain’t anyone ever taught you table manners?”

Jim can’t help but moan; partially in response and partially because he can’t hold the noise in anymore, not with Bones’ mouth carefully cleaning his hand of all traces of peach juice, Bones’ hand clasped gently yet authoritatively around his wrist again. “Bones, please...” he says, pinned in place by the heat in Bones’ gaze when he finally looks up at him.

“Yeah, Jim?” he says, going for casual but the roughness of his voice gives him away, has Jim biting his bottom lip to keep from moaning again. Bones notices, of course, and it goes straight to his ego, judging by his smirk – as it should, Jim thinks. He’ll never get tired of how Bones looks at him, at how much Bones can turn him on with just the sound of his voice.

“Kiss me,” he all but whispers – Bones is already halfway there, though, and when Jim pulls him in they both overcompensate, Jim falling back with Bones on top of him in an uncoordinated heap of limbs on the blanket, both laughing in the lingering haze of the bourbon. They cut each other off with another kiss, and then another, and before long their laughter has died away.

With Bones on top of him, Jim starts to feel the summer again, despite the shade of the trees. He can feel sweat starting to build along his back, and when Bones starts pulling at the hem of his t-shirt it’s gone a second later, along with Bones’ own, and they’re kissing again like they never stopped. The feeling of Bones’ chest against his is its own bliss, their skin dragging together where they’ve started to sweat. Jim moans against Bones’ tongue and rolls his hips upwards, sighing contentedly when he manages to grind his erection against Bones’.

Bones grunts and whispers Jim’s name against his lips before pulling away, moving back in again to nip and suck his way down Jim’s neck. In the process, they situate themselves more comfortably, their legs slotted together; the second they’re settled, they both start grinding against each other’s thighs. Jim doesn’t bother hiding the quiet gasps and sighs that the position pulls from him, loving how every sound he makes spurs Bones on, getting him to suck longer or bite harder.

It can’t last forever, though – soon, either or both of them will reach the point of no return, and Jim was hoping for a little more from this, even though it would be so easy to give in, and almost as good.

“Bones,” he gasps, squeezing his shoulder. “Bones, c’mere,” he tries again, tugging at his bicep, heat curling in his gut at the warmth of Bones’ skin. “C’mere, I wanna-”

He’s cut off by Bones kissing him, not a second after lifting off his neck. “What do you want, Jim?” he murmurs, his voice low and accent thick in the most perfect way.

“I want you to fuck me,” he says, and while slightly incredulous, Bones’ smile is _amazing_.

“Do you now?”

“Yeah, I do. Now.”

Bones laughs at that, bending down to kiss Jim lightly for it. “And I suppose you came prepared.”

Jim smirks. “Well, they don’t call me a tactical genius for nothing,” he says, laughing when Bones rolls his eyes. “Front pocket of the cooler.”

Jim misses Bones the second he’s gone, even though he’s still right there, kneeling beside the cooler and trying to figure out which pocket Jim meant. Jim misses the weight of him, the warmth, the feeling of Bones’ skin against his.

Bones finds the pocket, and turns back to face Jim to treat him to a _look_ at the obviously-new bottle of lube. Bones laughs as he tosses it at Jim's chest, saying “Strategic genius my ass.”

“Mine for now, if you don’t mind,” Jim says, catching the bottle and setting it down to the side.

Bones laughs again and moves to crawl back over him, but Jim stops him with a hand to his chest. “Before we get too carried away...” he says, bringing his hands to his fly in what he hopes comes across as conspicuous a move as possible, undoing the top button before reaching for the fly.

Bones’ smile softens, and he gently moves Jim’s hands away. “Let me,” he says; Jim nods, and Bones slowly opens the zipper, the faint tease of his fingers through layers of fabric making Jim clench his own in the blanket in an effort to keep still.

Bones dips his hands under Jim’s waistband then, so they’re wrapping around the skin of his hips, and he squeezes lightly before hooking his fingers in Jim’s shorts, pulling them slowly down along with his boxer briefs, inch by near-agonizing inch. Jim doesn’t miss how Bones lights up when his cock is freed, or how Bones starts to speed up after that. He doesn’t mention it; he stays silent, only moving to lift his hips and then his legs to help Bones undress him.

When his shorts are off and tossed somewhere to join their shirts he’s completely naked, and being exposed to the outdoors doesn’t bother him; he enjoys it, really, the freedom of it, the feeling of dappled sunlight breaking through the leaves above and leaving glowing pools of light against his skin. He watches as Bones pauses to look at him, sitting back on his heels and staring at him as though he’s two seconds away from prostrating himself in worship. Jim opens his legs a little wider; might as well give Bones a show, he thinks, and a slow smile appears on Bones’ face.

“Well ain’t you a sight,” Bones whispers, reaching out one hand to trace his fingers up and down Jim’s calf.

“I can be more,” Jim says, widening his legs even further, smiling and raising an eyebrow when Bones chuckles.

“Oh, don’t I know it.” Bones starts on his own shorts then, getting his belt and fly open without lingering, pulling them off along with his underwear in a similar, if faster, motion as he used for Jim's.

Bones finally crawls back over him then, settling between Jim’s legs easily – automatically, and Jim regrets that he doesn’t get to spend the same amount of time appreciating Bones’ body, but Bones chooses to slide their cocks together, and as Jim gasps he thinks _close enough_.

“God, you’re beautiful, darlin’,” Bones murmurs, nuzzling his jaw and slowly drawing his hips back and forth. Jim wraps his legs around Bones’ waist, one hand settling on Bones’ shoulder, the other resting in his hair.

“Bones- _please_ ,” he says, all other words already gone, begging for- anything, for Bones’ fingers, his cock, _something_ inside him to indicate that this is going further.

Bones kisses his jaw and grabs the lube from beside them, softly saying “Hang on.” He gets it open with some fiddling, snapping the new packaging open and spreading some on his fingers, taking a moment to get it a little warmer.

Jim sighs when he feels Bones’ first finger, just circling for a moment before pushing in. It isn’t hard to get himself to relax; it isn’t something he’s had to focus on in so long he forgets what that was like, because the press of Bones’ fingers always comes with a promise of fulfillment that makes his knees weak to think about. Bones is slow, methodical, when it comes to this. Never clinical – he takes the same care he does as a doctor, but as he stretches Jim, opens him for him, his fingers are never anything but warm and adoring.

It’s easy to lose himself to it, to the slow drag of Bones’ fingers. He groans – a little belatedly, as though there’s a time-delay between his body and his brain and his throat – each time Bones adds another finger, until there’s two, then three inside him, stroking and scissoring and _filling_ him, leaving him light-headed yet still wanting, needing more. He loses track of the sounds he makes, moans and whines buzzing in his throat as gasps and sighs slide around them, and he doesn’t know how long he’s been murmuring Bones’ name, just that he is, and Bones is whispering in his ear; _just a little more_ and _I know, baby_ swirling around his head and under his skin, under the heat of Bones above him.

He notices immediately when Bones pulls his fingers free and whines his displeasure; Bones kisses him softly, is even softer in the way he says “Almost – god, Jim, look at you.” Bones asks if he’s okay, stroking his side gently, and all he can do is nod, whisper _please_. Bones positions himself and then he’s pushing inside, and Jim loses himself more for every slow centimetre of Bones’ cock inside of him.

Jim feels himself open for Bones and whispers _yes_ because this is the way it’s supposed to be; he whispers _Bones_ because this is where he belongs, with Bones over him, around him, inside him. He relaxes through the stretch even as he revels in it, how his body adjusts around Bones, fitting him so exactly that Jim feels, privately, as though Bones has made a permanent impression in him. He lets go completely, letting his mind clear as he falls into the feeling of being stretched around Bones, of being filled by him.

When Bones is fully seated inside of him he pauses; as though waiting for permission, Jim realizes with a few seconds’ delay, and the way he says _please_ feels choked coming out of his throat but he doesn’t have time to worry about it because Bones is leaning down to kiss him, and Bones is moving inside of him. He kisses back desperately, anchoring himself in it because the in-and-out drag of _so full_ and _not enough_ is too dizzying. He’ll start to focus on the _not enough_ and not on the fullness, and that’s the last thing he wants – at that point he’ll start to beg, and he still has the presence of mind to know that he wants this to last.

Bones is groaning his name against his lips, his neck, into his ear, kissing anywhere and everywhere he can reach, moaning _so good_ and _so beautiful, baby_ , every word prolonging the sparks Bones’ cock lights in him. He arches his back, needing more, deeper, and he gets it, Bones moaning into his ear and hitting that spot inside him with every thrust.

It feels like eternity but he knows it can’t be long before the need to come starts to overtake him; he whispers _harder_ and _more_ and _Bones_ , and when Bones complies, wrapping his hand around Jim’s cock at the same time, Jim’s hips jump at the feeling, jarring their rhythm and making them moan in unison.

“That’s it, darlin’, c’mon,” Bones drawls in his ear. He kisses below it; between Bones inside him and Bones’ hand around him, Jim doesn’t know where to focus, so he chooses the point under his ear instead, where Bones keeps whispering, pressing a series of kisses to his skin. He’s close, so close, he can feel it building up and up and with one more whisper of his name from Bones’ lips he’s coming, his body immaterial in the rush as it overtakes him.

He comes back to himself an eternity or a few seconds later, just in time to feel Bones come inside him; he loves the feeling of it, loves to hold Bones in his arms through it, stroking his hair and gasping softly at the sensations of Bones coming, rolling his hips throughout.

Jim’s still running his fingers through Bones’ hair when Bones pulls out, kissing Jim’s collarbone as they both grunt at the slight discomfort. Jim tugs Bones up to kiss him slowly, almost sweetly, and Bones slides up him easily, submitting to the kiss even more so.

“I think we’re stuck here ‘til my knees grow back,” Jim mumbles into it, and Bones laughs.

“I guess I can wait, considering the company,” he says, kissing the corner of Jim’s mouth, smiling.

A moment later, Bones grabs one of their t-shirts and makes a perfunctory effort to clean them up. Jim’s on him the second he’s done, kissing Bones’ shoulder as he plasters himself to Bones’ side, resting his head on his chest. Bones makes a token protest but never even pretends to push him away, wrapping one arm around Jim’s back and kissing his hair.

They lay like that for hours – through the afternoon, until the sun threatens to start setting, and they start to feel uncomfortable, their skin itchy with sweat and semen. They start to head in when Jim’s stomach growls loudly, Bones laughing and making promises about dinner as they pack everything up, only bothering to put their shorts back on. Before Bones can pick anything up and start to head back, Jim stops him with a soft ‘hey’ and fingers on his forearm. Jim pulls Bones up to himself, pressing their bodies together and sharing a smile. He waits until the last second, and when he finally kisses him, slowly, lazily, Bones still tastes like peaches.

 

* * *

 

The third night, they crawl into bed and wrap around each other almost immediately. They kiss good night, and Jim watches Bones pull away to rest against his own pillow, settling in and relaxing, waiting for sleep. It’s the kind of quiet moment that Jim loves – he still hasn’t gotten bored with watching Bones fall asleep, and he doesn’t think he ever will. He loves how Bones’ features soften, how the weight he carries melts off his shoulders as his awareness of it slips away with his conscious mind. He loves how easily Bones sleeps even when he knows Jim’s watching, like he knows how important it is to him. He probably does.

“I’m keeping the place,” Bones mumbles, already sounding half-asleep. Jim’s almost startled by the suddenness of it but recovers quickly; he reaches out and runs the pad of his thumb across Bones’ cheekbone, his heart squeezing in his chest when Bones lightly tilts his head up into it.

“You sure?” he says, knowing the answer but wanting the reasoning – or at least some of it, considering that Bones looks like he’s about two seconds from passing out.

“I am,” Bones says, quietly, reopening his eyes just enough to look at Jim. “‘Cause of you.”

Jim’s surprise must show, because before he knows it Bones is smiling and shifting closer, holding Jim’s chin between his thumb and forefinger as he kisses him softly.

“There’s room for new memories here after all,” he murmurs, so close that his lips brush against Jim’s as he talks. Jim takes advantage of the closeness and kisses him again, memorizing the feeling of Bones smiling into it.

“I really love you,” Jim whispers, and Bones laughs – a quiet, happy sound, low in his chest. Jim remembers how it feels under his fingertips and the thought makes him itch to reach out but before he can, the moment’s come and gone.

“I love you too,” Bones says, kissing him again before pressing their foreheads together. “Night, darlin’.”

Jim nods slightly, just enough so Bones can tell what the motion is but not so strongly that it pushes him away. He doesn’t open his eyes again but reaches out to rest his hand against Bones’ upper arm; it’s warm against his palm, bringing to mind the sunlight from that afternoon and how Bones all but glowed underneath it. Jim can’t wait until the morning, when he can pull back the sheets and pull off Bones’ clothes and catalogue every new freckle that’s appeared on his body, kissing them as though in welcome. He can already hear Bones’ laughter, gentle and warm with sleep.

When Jim eventually drifts off, it’s to the sound of Bones’ breathing; to the feeling of Bones’ skin under his hand, and to a thousand memories of Bones’ smile.

 

* * *

 

The third morning, they wake up still curled around each other, and Jim knows that they’re exactly where they’re supposed to be.

**Author's Note:**

> I've never actually been to Georgia, but I feel reasonably confident in my google research; still, please forgive any errors as creative licence.
> 
> Feel free to say hi to me on [tumblr](http://thingbe.tumblr.com)!


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